Evolution


My mandala suddenly decided to run away

to become a seed in a traveler's bag

Homer had not yet begun to write poetry. He stood at the fountain of eternity

Judging the dove's promised, but unfulfilled, lies

About the rising clouds returning to the sea

About the words on the parchment scrolls disappearing one stroke at a time

About humans becoming unable to speak

About smooth skin growing hair and curling tails

About the thunder and lightning that took back the fire

About the moon, silently covering the face of the sky from the eyes of the living

About the stars being just stars and the darkness just darkness

We sit back in that cave

Dreaming only of hunger and dryness

Wake up to only beasts and springs